Straddling the Hudson River. One foot in NYC, the other in suburban New Jersey.

Main menu

Post navigation

Live! Nude! Girls!

Let’s dip our silver ladle into the big rain barrel of memories and take another cool drink.

August 31, 1993

Last Saturday was a blur of sex, money and booze. Howard invited me on a bachelor party crawl with 10 of his pals. They said I was the token Gentile. I didn’t know any of them but they made me feel welcomed. A few of them live in Israel and told some interesting stories. We ate at Khyber Pass on St. Marks. The groom, Sparky, just had a major blow-out with his betrothed so he was mopey all night.

I hate strip clubs. Always have. I’m strung too tight to enjoy them. They sell an illusion to bored, lonely men. I certainly qualify but I can’t dismiss the reality. Those girls don’t want me! They want the contents of my wallet. As soon as they find out I’m broke, I’m persona non grata. It’s like dating in Manhattan without the occasional loveless sex to break up the monotony. Other guys seem to be able to see past the lie and enjoy themselves. What’s wrong with me?

We went to Honey Buns on 47th and Lexington. What a dump. We thought we’d get away cheap because there wasn’t a cover. We were mistaken. We were pounced on the moment we walked in. I was surprised (and pleased) at how touchy the girls were. It was okay to reciprocate if you didn’t cross a line. They’d whisper flattering things in your ear. Guys walked in looking like the crosstown M42 just squished their puppy but when a girl sat in their lap they cheered right up. It was a room full of dudes who are crushed by life. Bald, overweight, lousy jobs, lousy wives, too many responsibilities, too little fun, old, sad sacks. But those girls made them feel like winners. There’s something sweet about it.

There was a $10 “entertainment” charge but that includes three beers, which I thought was a bargain. Later that evening, a bartender at the Blarney Stone told me those places serve non-alcoholic beer. I’ve never been able to hold my liquor and it dawned on me that after a three beers, all I had was a foul taste in my mouth.

I paid my $10 and tipped the girl $1. She said she usually gets $2 for a beer so I gave her another $1. A shockingly beautiful Japanese girl sat next to me. I was wearing shorts and she started twiddling the hair on my leg. She asked if I would buy her a drink and I said, “SURE!” A waitress brought the drink, set it down and said, “$20.” I started laughing because I thought she was kidding but she wasn’t. It was the most expensive drink I’ve ever bought. I told my companion that I was dirt poor and to enjoy her dink because there wouldn’t be another one. I was angry.

As an icebreaker, I showed her my tattoo. [Note: It’s a Japanese symbol. How horribly cliché.] I said I was tired of dating and wanted to see just one girl. I don’t recall asking any questions about herself. What could I ask?! She was sitting in a dank, second-rate strip joint with hardly any clothes on and her big Japanese breasts spilling into my lap. I know this sounds idiotic but I think she liked me. It was obvious she wasn’t going to make any money off me but she didn’t leave. She sat there for quite some time and we chatted. She said she didn’t meet very many “nice guys” and that it was refreshing to just talk. I was so flattered that I almost ordered her a glass of water.

A waitress came by, picked up her unfinished drink and that was her signal to move on. I was pretty bored after that. Later, I saw her sitting with a TOTAL STRANGER stroking his leg. It broke my heart. I thought I was special.

A stunningly beautiful girl sat next to Howard. Howard is happily married and a self-professed cheap bastard. The girl sat there just long enough to learn those truths: about :30 seconds. A man at the next table was sitting with his back to me. A girl was sitting in his lap facing me. He was kissing her neck and caressing her back. The girl had a blank, distant look on her face. Like she was composing her grocery list. She’s got a boring job, too. Howard said he saw them walk to the back of the club and up a staircase. It was depressing. I wanted to leave.

We walked to the Blarney Stone and got properly soused. One of Howard’s friends is from Cleveland and I tried to chat him up about my old town but all he did was complain. He bitched about everything. The walking (people outside the city drive everywhere), the money, the girls, the “weird food,” the city—everything. I ignored him. Someone bought rounds of shots. A girl walked passed and bumped into me. I asked her if I owed her $20 for that.

We went the Paradise. There was a $10 cover. The Paradise has a VIP Lounge. A private dance in the VIP Lounge costs $10. I got angry because for the price of ONE dink at Honey Buns I could have had TWO VIP dances. For the extraordinarily well heeled, you can ride around Manhattan in the back of a limo with the girl of your choice. That costs $300. I wonder if one of the gorillas working there goes with you or do you get to be alone with the girl?

The girls immediately pegged us all as a bunch of cheap bastards and never approached us. There were TV monitors around the perimeter of the stage playing hardcore porno. Everywhere you looked there was fucking and sucking. Sex, sex, sex. Vaginas as far as the eye could see. You couldn’t get away from them. It was a room filled with drunken, horny, desperate, lonely guys who were being driven mad with desire but wouldn’t have anything to show for it at the end of the evening except an empty wallet and blue balls.

While hailing a cab at the corner of Broadway and 33rd I saw some guy pissing in the doorway of a bank. Not a bum. Some white kid from the suburbs. I hate when people piss on my city, so imagine my utter delight when a patrol car pulled up and arrested him. The cops stood him spread-eagle on the hood of the cruiser while they called in his ID. Now, THAT’S what I call a happy ending. Home at 3:30.

Last Saturday I took 13-Year Old to the Whitney. They have a brand new building in the meatpacking district. The building is spectacular and the exhibit, culled from their permanent collection, is beautiful. Too crowded, though. Here, my daughter and I argue the merits of Rothko. My artist pal, Sharon, took this. Always bring an artist to a museum with you. They explain stuff. That’s the same little girl in my banner up top. Time’s insatiable appetite.

I actually have a brother who frequents them. A miserable sod, my brother. He doesn’t understand or like women. It could just be that he treats them all like mindless walking vaginas. Nah! It must be that women are all bad.

The few times I went to strip clubs I don’t know who I felt worse for—the dancers or the customers. Went to one in Las Vegas once and decided my love of gambling was a lesser evil. Still, nothing to be proud of.

I remember being furious when my future father-in-law took my future husband to a strip club. ON their return, father-in-law had a sappy grin, but future husband just looked bored. Neither would talk about their evening, so I’m glad to finally know what goes on in those places.

I love both of your father-daughter pictures. They do grow up. No way to stop that, as much as we might want to sometimes.

Hmmm, I’ve been following you for awhile, but perhaps I’ve never commented? I may have started following you back when I was afraid to comment on other bloggers’ posts, and since then just haven’t gotten around to it. I do enjoy your posts, sometimes I just don’t acknowledge it properly.

I’ve been to strip clubs a few times, and honestly, I got bored within 20 minutes every time (every time, it was a bachelor party, otherwise the first time would have been the last time). Maybe it has more to do with me being a cheap and suspicious bastard – in a place like this, I’d never believe that a girl would be after anything other than my money.

My brother was the only person I’ve ever known who left with, and started dating, a stripper. She was a nightmare, as you can probably imagine. But for the rest of us mere mortals it’s mostly a sad and embarrassing evening. It only leads to frustration and, more catastrophically, bankruptcy.

They’re mostly awful although fun can be had if you don’t get too wrapped up in it. A guy I grew up with back in Cleveland used to go to the same one all the time and knew all the girls. Pseudo relationships.

Mark! long time no see. Wow, your little girl is getting all grown up. They are such fun at that age ’cause you can see who they are becoming and you can actually have an interesting intellectual conversation with them. And they can truly challenge with questions.

Your NYC story is spot on as always. I used to lay over in various cities and strip clubs where all had their little games to separate you from your money- like the $20 drink for the lady. Touching at that time was unusual – most wouldn’t allow it – except for lap dances. There was a great strip club north of Boston called The Golden Banana that could separate you from your money quick and had truck parking. Once you knew the club you could generally get something from a visit. For instance there was a great club within walking distance of a tuck terminal we frequented in Montreal, called The Source de Sex (on Boulevard des Sources). During the day there was no cover and they had awesome club sandwiches and great fries for only $5 – a draw for daytime workers. I actually met a woman dancer there one day who was a professional dancer and studying it at dance school – she had awesome skills on the dance floor and bulging leg muscles. I called her over and paid her $20 for 15 minutes to talk to her (at the table) and find out her story – very cool. She said striping was the best way for her to make tuition money.

There was a strip club in downtown Ottawa – Barbarella – with an adjoining pub. They imported French girls from Northern Quebec and toured them around Ontario -interesting and fresh viewing. The beer there was great – $9 for pitcher – but the food was expensive and suspect and the cops often checked drivers leaving the parking lot.

Anyway, all that to say that your tour of the seedier side of the sex trade in NYC brought back some great memories. Ha! that came out wrong. there are some great things about strip clubs that they use as lures for patrons – be it cheap beer, good food, or whatever. You just have to figure out their good points and their scams and cherry pick(no pun intended).walking in to one unprepared as a newbie will get your wallet emptied quickly. As you noticed. Caveat Emptor.

Great post Mark – thought provoking.

Hey, as an aside Mark, I’ve done a few posts over at https://julienoblog.wordpress.com/ I’d be honored if you had the time to drop by for a read. One post – Love and Gravity, an Essay -. is different form what I’ve done previously but two others – “The Medical Situation” and “Elizabeth and Ute” – are my regular style. Thanks Mark!

Hello, Paul. Nice to see you, as always. So is that a permanent online address for you? Is that as close as you’ll get to your own place? I’ll bookmark it.

My daughter is at the perfect age. Curious but not quite an angst-ridden teenager yet. It’s coming, though. Early symptoms are already making themselves known.

There was a club in Kitchener, Ontario called The Breslau we used to visit. Once, we actually made it backstage. You’d think it’d be a special kind of fun but there were children everywhere. It was like a daycare center. Those places CAN be a lot of fun but because of my timid nature, I always felt uncomfortable.

I’d have had a nice time in the evening I describe above if it was so bloody expensive. It felt like I was having my pocket picked. Don’t they want customers to have a nice time and come back? Or do they just want to empty their wallets as quickly as possible and send them on their bitter way? It was a bad business plan.

Thanks for the great stories. Your comment is a pretty good post in and of itself.

Strip clubs can offer an alternative to the men who constantly get snubbed by women because of their physical imperfections. Same thing with escort services. The truth is, all women companionship cost money one way or another.
The picture of you and daughter shows how much life can change in a few short years. You’re getting old and she’s becoming a woman. Enjoy every second you can now Mark, because tomorrow it will be just memories.
Spending this weekend with wife in NYC. Going to The Frick, seeing The Fantasticks, drinks at The Algonwuin Hotel, steaks at the Bull & Bear and getting our picture taken with The Naked Cowboy & Cowgirls. Can it get any better than this!!! You lucky dog, you can do this all time.

Clubs really do have their place in society. If I wasn’t such a curmudgeon, I’d probably visit them once in a while, but I don’t have a good game when it comes to the stuff so I just end up sounding like a babbling idiot. And I really can’t afford them. They’re crazy expensive. But, as you accurately point out, you pay eventually.

Ah, a weekend in Manhattan. What could be better? Hope you have a safe journey. There’s a really nice garden in the back of the Frick. They recently shelved an plan to get rid of it and build a six-story extension. The Landmarks and Preservation Committee said nothin’ doing. I haven’t eaten at the Bull & Bear. Let me know how it is. In addition to the entertainments you mention, there’s a girl who walks around Times Square in nothing but BODY PAINT. It freaked my daughter out a bit.

Love the photo of you and your daughter, and the fact your voice sounds like you back in 93 — that’s a good thing. My mom told a funny story about her German boyfriend: we’re in Swabia, and the people are notoriously cheap here. They were talking about the strip clubs here in Germany and she asked him how they are. He said he didn’t know, he’s never been to one (she thought that was nice, but then he said “Do you know what they get for a beer there?”).

I think I’ve written with the same voice my whole life. I’m not sure if that counts as a rut or a groove. Could be both. I picture the clubs in Germany more decadent. Nothing to base that on except my empty prejudices.

That’s your brand! You can’t change that! Why would you want to? I heard Kurt Vonnegut speak at a university once and he said writing schools ruin students by stripping them of their natural voice and making them conform to a single, “correct,” voice.

Well that drink you bought obviously wasn’t worth 20 bucks. There must have been a 300% mark up for the sympathetic Japanese boobies. Your companion took her cut later. The Japanese are shrewd business people – they make you pay in advance!

I suspect some men are happy to pay for sex because of the feeling of power it gives them. You were just a typical doofus who craved genuine affection as well as flesh, which is not something a call girl offers unless you’re Richard Gere!

The value of the drink was exactly that of two lap dances at Paradise. I most certainly did NOT get good value that night. The good ole’ Blarney Stone was the only place that was kind to out wallets. Strong drinks at popular prices.

I AM Richard Gere! Minus the fame. And money. And talent. And dashing good looks. And relationship with the Dalia Lama. But we both have gray hair. So there’s that.

Chris Rock has a joke about how his mission in life is to keep his daughter off the pole. Pretty funny, but not really. If I ever found out my daughters worked in a place like that I’d never get over the heartbreak.

Everyone else seems to have said what I \’d have said.But maybe I can add that sometimes, a girl works a “rough” job for good money.A friend worked nights in a club(polite London word for strip joint) in order to give her son a good education.And, as an aside, she taught me how to twirl tassles.

I think working in a strip club, a decent one at least, is far better and safer for the girls than walking the streets which would perhaps be the other option for some of them (or maybe I’m making assumptions that I shouldn’t be making!). In the more upmarket ones in Vegas the girls make serious money, sometimes they’re students paying their way through college or whatever, and raking in the money. It’s never appealed to me to go and watch male stripper shows either, but each to their own!

Your daughter really has grown hasn’t she! Mine are both teens now (girl 16, boy 13), and while I do feel a bit sad when I look back at the photos from when they were little, and miss the people that they were then, I’m actually finding that I’m enjoying being a parent more now than I did when they were younger which I didn’t expect, so don’t fear those teenage years too much! I think every age they go through has its joys and its challenges for us parents, and we should just embrace and relish it all and consider ourselves privileged for sharing those times with them.

Streetwalking is a WAY, WAY different game than dancing. I don’t think the two of them can compare. You can’t get arrested for dancing on a pole and that’s all I think most of them do. My understanding is that Vegas has some very nice clubs that care about things like the quality of the food and the cleanliness. But they’re SO expensive! My lord. I’d rather take that money and stand at a crap table.

I found having very young children to be kind of torturous, if I’m being honest. But I love the bracket they’re in right now–8 and 13. They’re curious and you can have quasi-adult conversations with them. Spending time is a real joy. Having said that, my understanding is that some joys and challenges are greater than others! 😉

I actually don’t think she enjoys it all that much. I think she tolerates it for my sake. But I’m hoping that when she’s older, she’ll think back and remember these afternoons spent at the museums. I know I will! Of course, the opposite can happen. She can leave home and never want to step foot in another museum again. I’ll take my chances and cast my lot WITH the exposure instead of WITHOUT.

Culture, shmulture. She’ll remember spending time with her dad. I spent an evening in Montreal with my daughter, then 10, I think. We ate at an Indian restaurant and went to see the last and worst Pirates of the Caribbean movie. She still talks about that day, especially the pickled carrots.

Look at your little bin of journals! Oh, we have so much to choose from. Well, titty bars are supposed to be seedy, right? Are there any classy ones? Wait, don’t answer that for me. I’ve never been in one. My husband went to a few in San Francisco and was in shock for days. Then he wanted to go back! He joked I should get a job in one. What?! I don’t think he was joking. Please laugh with me. Guys get weird about this stuff. You had an extraordinary experience, sounds like, with a Japanese woman playing with your leg hairs. Okay!

On another note, that picture is just sweetness, especially seeing it against the one in your header. Awww…you guys share art. That’s very cool.

My big bin of happiness, sadness, highs, lies, lows and in between. If it weren’t for the nice things everyone says, and if it weren’t for my insatiable need for attention, I might have burned them by now.

I can’t get excited at titty bars. I prefer my seductions to be private. And I don’t want to feel like the attention being paid can be weighed by my dollar commitment. More money = a deeper experience. What a bunch of baloney. Better to create that magic without the financial obligation.

My husband and I went to a strip club in Vegas a few years ago. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He doesn’t enjoy strip clubs, but even if he did, I don’t think there’s anything there for me to be jealous about. Strip clubs seem to be full of moderately pretty, glassy-eyed girls. It’s sad, not intimidating.

Well, if you’re going to visit a strip club I don’t think you can do any better than Vegas. Those guys know how to run a strip club and how to pick you pocket. And they’re populated with really pretty girls. That’s catnip to a lot of guys. I understand it. But I like my love in the dark. Not under stage lights.

We don’t have stripclubs here, though lapdancing clubs were de rigeur for a while back in the 90’s. I went once with a group of musicians and bouncers, but we were all just embarrassed. I found the whole thing quite sad and just left.

Everything is okay here. It’s YOU I’m worried about! Hope the family situation has settled a bit. What an interesting road you’ve been put on. Wonder why some people are tested more than others? Hang in there, brother.

i’ve been in far too many strip clubs – the experience is quite different as a woman, but your early characterization of it is pretty dead on… by the way, they don’t always leave ‘blue balled’. if you get 3 lap dances in a row, it can be enough to relieve stress – but messy. it’s a business, though. i’ve spent time talking with the performers… some sad, coked-up and lost. some smart – if you would work 2 nights a week and clear $1000, would you give it a go?

your kid is growing up! very cool! have you seen the play “Red”? it helped me reset my registers for modern art, and i have some genuine appreciation for Rothko… not that i’d buy his work…

saw our blogfather in barcelona last week! he remains the single most wonderful human i’ve ever known…

There’s something I’ve never done–gone to a strip club with a woman. I wonder how different the experience is? Do you know what they call that? When I guy has one too many lap dances and makes a mess? That stain is called a “silver dollar.” A cute name for something that’s kind of gruesome. Do they REALLY make that kind of money? That’s what you always hear but I wonder if it’s true.

Yes! Saw RED on Broadway. Rothko was played by Alfred Molina and his assistant was played by a very young Eddie Redmayne, who just won the best actor Oscar for The Theory of Everything. Great, gripping stuff. In once scene, they both prepped a large canvas. They blasted classical music and painted with wild abandon. They darted over and under each other. It was like a ballet.

I really miss that guy and wish he hadn’t fallen out of my life. He was in my wedding party but we never talk anymore. I think the friendship meant more to me than it did to him. Sad face.

i’ve done clubs as half of a couple, but mostly with a group of 5-6 men while on business trips… VERY different experience! The smart performers will scan the room – sad older man alone, group of douche-bros doing bachelor party, group of business men out farting around with a female face in the middle… That last group is very attractive to a performer – we’re just out to have a good time, drop some cash and be silly! And because there’s a woman in the pack, that telegraphs the potential message that they are not a bunch of misogynist assholes! We typically got TONS of attention – and i’d spend a good bit of time talking to the performers, learning about the working conditions.

Yes, they CAN make that kind of money. At the glitzy big name clubs (in bigger cities) the talent often flies in to work weekends – the dancers PAY the club to perform. They also have to tip the DJs, parking lot attendants, house mother, etc. It sucks because the only people i see really working in those places are the dancers… The money can be good… but depends a lot on the management, and conditions at specific clubs….

As for the blogfather? He’s only an e-mail away… He’s had a lot going on, and remember, he lives across the Atlantic, has been learning a second language through serious immersion, and all that comes with being an ex-pat. Sometimes we go for a year or so without conversation – and that’s mostly electronic. We are connected primarily through that social media site you hate so much. It serves a purpose…

Hi Marky Mark! I’m with Amy – what’s up with your leg hair? Is there something about it you’d like to share that made that woman want to play with it? lol That’s a very nice photo of you and your daughter. I hope her ankle is okay – it looks like she has it wrapped. Worried about the Cavs – but if this isn’t their year, I think it will be next year for sure. I know you’ll be watching – just hope it’s somewhere where optional clothing is not an option… 🙂

Well, we’re certainly good at that, aren’t we? Hoping. For what it’s worth, the New York Times (and, dare I say?, the rest of the country) are pulling for the Cavs. It’s enough to bring a tear to my eye.

Well, that didn’t go well. It’s not the Cavs fault. They’re so beat up. They don’t have anyone left and the Warriors have a deep bench. I almost hope it ends on Tuesday. I can’t take it anymore. Like you said…next year.

I’ve never been to a strip club, but I dated a former stripper for about a year. She did it briefly while in college. Cornell. Go figure. Looking back, she was just being her idea of rebellious considering that daddy bankrolled all four years of her degree. Real strippers are a whole other kettle of pain.

That’s great that you and your daughter dig art together. My dad and me were into sports. I have many great memories of him.

My brother dated a stripper. She had a VOLATILE temper. One night, he was driving her home from the club and they had a terrific argument. She was sitting slumped in the front seat with her feat up on the dash. To make a point, she kicked his windshield and her stiletto heel cracked the glass. It started out as a little raspberry but it spread over the length of the windshield.

I’m not so sure she digs the art but I like taking her anyway. She’ll look back and remember those afternoons. I hope. The new Whitney is fantastic. Have you seen it? So packed, though.

I liked ‘Hand of God.’ I’m actually glad I saw it in a bigger house. I can’t imagine they could do HALF the staging in the tiny, dumpy Lortel. They just extended to January. They’d better pray Stephen Boyer doesn’t leave the cast. Everyone else is replaceable. Not him. A friend of mine saw ‘Of Good Stock’ w/Alicia Silverstone at City Center and really liked it. Rush tix are around for $5 bucks. Are you on the Rush email list?

How do I get on that rush email list? I’m in a plane in SFO right now heading back to NYC. The stripper I dated also had an irrational temper. She got violent with other women, but not with me. I exited that crazy train.

Thanks for the invite to see the new Whitney Museum, thoroughly enjoyed the visit. I totally agree, the architect did a wonderful job in creating a space that not only showcases the work beautifully but utilizes the outdoor spaces as well to great effect. Fun seeing some old favorites and discovering new artists. And seeing the art through a young person’s eyes was an added treat.

First i was on vacation and then my computer finally died… now i’m back and god damn i’m sick of the strip club bashing, the Wilderness Years will soon delve into a few places and i spent a healthy chunk of time in those places, the first one i was ever in was in San Diego, a place called Les Girls and i left with a phone number, i was 17, she was 23 and though we talked on the phone a few times i never got to go on my date with her before i went back to Cleveland, for the record i told her i was 20… as for the women who work at those establishments some are trainwrecks and some are quite smart, i’ve pulled more capers in strip clubs than the average bear but i won’t give it away here, the lounge will cover it… and you might be surprised by the what happens in the continuing saga known as the Wilderness Years, as always do enjoy the journals… i can’t talk about my Cavs though so please don’t ask…

I feel like it’s less bashing the strip club and more bashing myself. I wish I could enjoy those places the way NORMAL people can. But I’ve got too many hang-ups that the keep me from being liberated enough to have a good time. Erotic dancing has been around since men crawled up from the muck. Clearly, I’m the one with the issue here.